


Broken Pieces, Empty Bottles, and Full Ashtrays

by I_am_a_Ruin



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Amy tries to be a good sister, F/F, Literally the smallest amount of fluff, Smoking, So much angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-20
Updated: 2017-02-20
Packaged: 2018-09-25 18:40:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9838415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_am_a_Ruin/pseuds/I_am_a_Ruin
Summary: Alice tries to forget but her memory has always been resilient.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Read the tags. There is a lot of alcohol abuse and smoking. Minorly detailed fighting. Mentions of sex. This is not lighthearted at all.

“If you leave me, I’ll never recover.” 

Alice had playfully told Marianne this after one particularly passionate night. Nose pressed into sweat-dampened hair smelling so strongly of intoxicating, expensive French perfume and gentle kissed laved upon her collarbone, Alice had muttered those words. Marianne had laughed in that high, clear voice that made her dizzy and ran a languid hand through Alice’s tangled blonde locks.

“Same,  _ ma cherie _ .” 

Alice had tiredly snuggled closer, pulling Marianne down. The French Woman used her chest as a pillow and she did not mind in the least, in fact wondered if her heartbeat lulled Marianne to sleep the way Marianne’s did for Alice. 

The two had foolishly rushed into marriage after only five months of dating. The first month was a hazy, incredible rush of sex and heady with proclamations of undying love. 

That had become the largest bitter irony in Alice’s life after so long. Haunted by every smile and long night being held or holding, her heart still ached. Turns out that ‘undying love’ could not survive how harshly they fought. Cruel, cutting words were slung across rooms like explosives. They lit up those rooms as brutal brawls broke out in a vocal form. Sometimes it turned physical. Nails dug deeply into skin and fists struck faces. Sometimes they’d fall into bed and let their anger and hurt out in some of the roughest sex Alice had ever experienced. Sometimes they would spend nights crying in each other’s arms, promising to work harder and to repair the damage.

Unfortunately, Alice’s bad habits pushed Marianne so far away that nothing she could do would make her good enough for such an amazing woman. She did not blame Marianne for getting too tired. When Marianne left for good, those habits got worse.

She did not remember a lot of the time directly following the split. She found a comfort love in cold, unforgiving alcohol and abused it terribly. Her sister checked up on her sometimes to ascertain she had not drowned in her own vomit, but never stayed long. The house was always choked with heavy smoke from Alice’s second comfort and the other habit that had driven Marianne away. Amy could not stand the smoke or reek of alcohol anymore than Marianne had. 

It was something akin to a miracle or a curse that Alice even survived those months. She still smoked almost as much as she breathed oxygen and drank too much after a long night of work (which was every night), but she pretended she was getting better. Even as her sunken, sallow face said otherwise. She still showered more often and at least moved her smoking outside her home. She tried to get a little more sunlight.

At the end of the day, when she was sinking into the covers, not even exhaustion could rid her of the image of Marianne’s face, long burned into the inside of her eyelids. 

Marianne had sworn she too would never recover. However, as Alice got worse, Marianne grew considerably happier. She could see the brighter smiles and healthier glow the gorgeous woman had whenever she happened to run into her at a coffee shop or odd antique store. 

It hurt terribly that Marianne was so much better off without her. Yet, deep inside, she knew she would be. And she would be lying if she said seeing her happy did not make at least a small part of her feel a little better. She missed those smiles being directed at her.

A few times, Marianne would stop and ask how she was doing. Alice would smile politely and lie through her teeth. If Marianne was content, she would not steal that away from her. Even she was not that selfish.

Late at night, when the sadness and loneliness was choking her, when she couldn’t even make out the numbers on her alarm clock for her tear-filled eyes, she’d wrap blankets around herself and press pillows into her back. She would pretend the pressure and warmth was the one she lost and was never getting back holding her tightly. She would pretend she had never lost her and that the ugly, horrible monster of those days past were just a dreadful nightmare. She would pretend she was safe and married in those arms. She would pretend that love was never lost. 

After the first year, it got only got worse. Considerably worse. The first time she woke up up, intense hangover making everything foggy and migraine causing the room to spin, and saw the stranger sleeping soundly next to her her stomach turned violently and emptied its contents immediately upon the poor woman’s floor. Feeling guilty for the mess, but even more ashamed of a one night stand with a stranger, Alice hurriedly dressed herself and left as quickly as humanly possible.

She spent the next two days hiding and wallowing in her utter shame and disgust at home.

Unfortunately, it quickly became a recurring theme. The worst was either waking up underneath the partner and trying, with a heart positively throwing itself against her ribs, to extract herself without waking her up. 

The last time it happened, she went home and broke down sobbing. She hadn’t gotten drunk enough that time to blackout. The shame was eating her alive. She could remember falling into bed with that woman, could remember screaming and desperately pretending the pleasure was being given by someone else. 

Unable to bear another second, she quickly tried to erase the pain the only way she knew how: drinking. 

Drunk Alice was never an intelligent person. Which is why she made the awful decision to call. 

“I miss you.” Alice blurted out the second it stopped ringing.

“Who is this?” the deeply accented voice crackled through Alice’s crappy speaker.

“Please come back.  _ God,  _ I can’t live another day without you. Mari… you’re existence is burning my lungs and ripping me open.” The words tumbled across the phone lines, voice slurred almost beyond coherency.

Several seconds of silence passed before Marianne responded. “Are you drunk?”

“No. Maybe a little. You don’t know how much I miss you, petal. Every day I think of you. Could you just come over and hold me? Please? I need that more than anything.”

“Go to sleep, Alice. Sleep this off.” 

Then the line went dead. 

Tears cascaded into beer after beer. Even when her head was pounding and her vision so blurry she could hardly see the glass, she continued to drink. 

Consciousness fading, she felt the cup slip from her hand and distantly heard the shatter as the heaviness of the alcohol persuaded her eyes closed.

* * *

“I don’t think you understand! She’s fucking dying right now and it completely your fault.” a furious shout resounded into Marianne’s ear through her phone.

“What do you mean?” she couldn’t comprehend what was being said.

“Just get down to the goddamn hospital. If she lives, you’d damn well better be there. Alice needs you. And if she dies, you better be there so I can fucking strangle you.” 

Alice’s younger sister, Amelia, hung up the phone, leaving Marianne bewildered and frightened.

When Alice called her, she should have known something was wrong. She should have immediately gone over and made sure everything was okay. And now Alice was about to be lost to alcohol poisoning.

Marianne had been lying to herself for so long that she was over Alice that when that lie was recognized, finding out she was about to lose her for good hit her twice as hard.

Shaking hands managed to drive her to the hospital, barely escaping an accident. She sat, terrified, in the waiting room. Only family was allowed to see Alice. Amy refused to let her back. 

So she waited. She drank an obscene amount of coffee and waited. When Amy finally surfaced nearly twenty four hours later, Marianne instantly broke down. Her emotions were unable to take anymore and her anxiety over the very real possibility of Alice dying could no longer be contained. Amy stared at her with slowly increasing amounts of pity and eventual gave her an awkward hug. 

“She’s awake. She shouldn’t even be alive right now but… she’s stronger than she thinks she is I guess. You get five minutes unless she asks you to stay.” Amy said tiredly, sitting next to her.

Marianne slowly trudged to Alice’s room and froze when she saw her. The Brit looked so  _ ill  _ and exhausted. It was a drastic difference from the healthy, happy Alice she had known. This new person could hardly keep her eyes open.

She could not stop the tears that began pouring down her face nor could she resist rushing over to her and gently wrapping her arms around her. Relief flooded her system, momentarily overriding her worry. “ _ Mon Dieu, Alice.”  _

A trembling hand pressed against the back of her head. “What… What are you doing here?” the voice was painfully weak.

“You asked me to hold you, remember?” Marianne whispered into Alice’s neck, carefully moving the rest of the way into the bed. “I should’ve come earlier. I hope you you can forgive me. I’m here now if you want me.” hot tears rolled down Alice’s neck, but Marianne couldn’t bring herself to let go long enough to wipe them away.

The room stayed silent for what felt like days. Marianne stayed, almost forgetting she had said anything that required a response. 

And then came the ghostly quiet breath of “Okay.”


End file.
